


darling you've left your mark (on my life)

by spock



Category: Sirens (UK)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack Treated Seriously, Domestic, Humor, M/M, Mail order husband, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-22
Updated: 2011-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-26 10:39:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spock/pseuds/spock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>rachid manages to find the worlds only gay dating website that has a startling amount of scottish singles looking for husbands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	darling you've left your mark (on my life)

**Author's Note:**

> for sirens_fic's au challenge.

"There seems to have been a mistake." Stuart feels as if he's said this ten times in as many minutes, yet the person on the other end of the line refuses to listen to reason. He blows out a breath in disgust at the operators inefficiency and looks at the man that's just been dropped into his life. He's looking around taking in what he can of Stuart's flat from where he's perched on Stuart's couch. When he turns to look back in Stuart's direction Stuart jerks his head away sharply, embarrassed to have been caught starting and then angry at himself for feeling that way.

The voice makes no effort in bothering to hide the disdaine he feels towards Stuart either. "Male, between twenty and thirty years of age, preferably a red head, educated, willing to give up his career and stay at home, not adverse to having a pet, and experienced in bed," the man sighs and Stuart would like to know just where in the hell he gets off acting as if he has the right to be annoyed when Stuart's the one who's just had his whole life turned upside down. "I assure you that Mr. Greenwick fits all of your requested criteria, Mr. Bayldon."

"Yes, that's all well and good," Stuart seethes, voice strained. _Experienced in bed_ , Jesus Christ. "But the fact remains that I never placed any order! Are you sure your stupid agency sent him to the correct place? There isn't some other Stuart Bayldon out there waiting around for his bloody mail order husband?"

"Quite sure, Mr. Bayldon. We are a serious business — this isn't the sort of field where you can afford to make any of those sort of mistakes. We received your order two months ago, paid in full my a Mr. Rachid Mansaur."

That fucking _bastard_.

*

Stuart's never lived with anyone before — never really dated anyone, to be honest — but over the next few days he finds himself being gently acclimated to married life. Ashley concedes to sleeping on the couch for the first two days, but after that he's setting up camp inside of Stuart's bedroom, claiming the side of the bed that's closest to the wall. It was explained to him that one couldn't very well return another human being, despite the fact that you could apparently be _married away_ without so much as a second thought, so he'd just have to suck it up until something could be sorted out with the solicitors. He gone ahead ceded some of his space to Ashley, which turned out to be a huge mistake.

Ashley took it as a sign that Stuart had apparently come to terms with their marriage and began truly making himself at home. He walked around the place with nothing but his skintight boxer-briefs — which left nothing to the imagination _at all_ , Stuart's spank bank could attest to that — for days at a time, and stocked the refrigerator with his strange health food. Stuart found himself in a daze of constant arousal, which led to a state of even more constant shame for being attracted this his unwanted spouse who may or may not have been there of his own free will.

He wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth, though, especially when said gift was as hot as Ashley, with his stupid curly red hair and ridiculous green eyes and his horrible boner inducing accent. Rachid was many things, most of which fell under the Fucking Bastard Co-Worker with Creepy Meddling Tendencies and Internet Browser Privacy Infringing Habits™ category, but damn if he didn't know Stuart's type. So every day ended the same; with Stuart cuddling up to Ashley in _their_ bed, dutifully providing the big to Ashley's little spoon.

Stuart couldn't help but look forward to the day when he couldn't remember a time when Ashley hadn't been in his life all along.

*

"So were you expecting me to take your name? Or did you want the hyphen deal? Because I totally put the hyphen down on our license."

Stuart didn't know what to say to that, so he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "We haven't even had sex!"

He knew he'd fallen right into Ashley's trap when the other man got a smug look on his face. Ashley seemed to have developed a knack for predicting Stuart's reactions to any given situation, and had been manipulating him into to doing what he wanted and talking about a multitude of things Stuart never would have brought up otherwise.

Surely that was the only explanation as to why Stuart found himself cooking damn near every night despite the fact that _he_ was the one who worked. And that they were apparently having this conversation. Surely.

"Speaking of, when where you planning on that starting up, exactly? Because, I mean, you asked for someone experienced—"

"Oh my _God_ —"

"But you haven't exactly been putting that particular talent of mine to use. I have needs, Stuart. Needs that my dildo just doesn't quite _fulfill_." Stuart was 84% sure that Ashley didn't actually own any didldos — he would have seen them around, for one thing. The flat wasn't nearly big enough to be hiding a collection of sex toys — but now that he had that particular mental image in his mind he might as of well have.

"I-I don't know what to say to that." It became obvious that Ashley hadn't really been looking for an answer, seeing that he was rolling around the couch laughing his stupid perky arse off. For a moment Stuart thought about putting together an Excel spreadsheet when he went into work tomorrow, plotting out a time line for their potential-maybe-hypothetical sex life just out of spite, but knowing Ashley, the bastard would probably stick to it and Stuart had just come to terms with the fact that he maybe didn't want to terminate their marriage license _let alone_ actually considering the fact they could be a legitimate couple. He figured he could take fucking baby steps when it came to that, at least.

Laughter subsiding, Ashley lolled his head over onto Stuart's lap, staring up into his face. "But, really, what are we going to do about this whole situation? You honestly don't want to send me back anymore, do you? No offense or anything mate, but I have a hard time seeing you getting someone to date you based on your own charms, let alone locking it all down in marriage." Stuart sighed and began carding his hands through Ashley's hair.

"I'll have you know that I am quite the catch." But even as he said it, Stuart couldn't quite manage to bring himself to believe it. Ashley frowns a bit like knows Stuart doesn't believe that he could manage it all on his own either, but he doesn't call Stuart out on it, even though he'd been the one to point out Stuart's less-than-desirability in the first place.

*

It's not all sunshine and rainbows in the Greenwick-Bayldon household, though. Ashley and he get along on a number of topics, Stuart will be the first to admit. It'd only taken a week for Ashley to become his best mate — to be fair, there hadn't been much competition for the title. Still, he and Ashley get along quite well and rarely have any petty arguments.

Except for when it comes time to pick something to watch. Ashley has absolutely shit taste when it comes to telly.

"For the last time, I do not want to watch _Downton Abby_. The only quality character out of the bunch is that Thomas and he doesn't get nearly enough screen time to warrant watching a full episode. Why can't we just want the _F-Word_?"

"Because Ramsay's a twat, that's why. I can't stand to hear him harping about any longer. It's not natural to scream that bloody much, I'm amazed the asshole hasn't stroked out by now."

"You're practically the same person!"

"You wound me Ash, honestly."

"Jesus, just shut the fuck up. Look, last weeks _Buzzcocks_ is still on the DVR. Let's just watch that."

*

Two months into their marriage they start making out. All the time. It's not sex, but it's far more than Stuart got before Ashley came into his life, so he's hardly complaining.

Half of the time Stuart doesn't even realize that he's wants to kiss Ashley. It just springs up on him. Ashley'll be doing something terribly mundane and domestic — shaving or emptying the bin or helping Stuart set his infernal DVR — and Stuart will find himself overcome with the urge to kiss him. Sometimes it feels as if he'll die if he doesn't, and it's not as if it's a crime to kiss one's husband, no matter how convoluted and unintentional said marriage had come to be. So he does.

Besides, Ashley — as far as Stuart can tell — doesn't mind in the slightest, and might even feel the same. There are moments when Stuart will see the burning need he feels reflected back at him in Ashley's eyes. Sometimes when he's coming home from his morning run Ashley will pounce on him before the door's even closed, shoving him against the wall and crushing their mouths together.

Stuart's favorite moments are when they're about to kip off on the couch during the weekends, pressed together while watching whatever-the-fuck on the telly, and Ashley will pull Stuart into his lap and kiss him for what feels like, sometimes turns _into_ , hours.

They've even worked out an unspoken system on to deal with the numerous erections their even more numerous make out sessions cause: Ashley will lock himself in the bathroom while Stuart takes the bed and then they proceed to masturbate as loudly as possible, ensuring that the other party will hear them despite being separated by a few feet of plywood.

Stuart's self aware enough to realize that it's all terribly passive-aggressive and can't be healthy for either of them.

Doesn't mean he has to do anything about it though.

*

Stuart had asked Ashley just how in the hell he got into this whole Groom for Hire business in the first place about an hour after he'd hung up on the customer service rep who refused to see just how insane it was that you could buy someone a fucking husband from another country _without telling said person that it was happening_. Ashley had shrugged as if it was a perfectly normal thing to take part of. Maybe it is in Scotland. Fucking Scots.

He'd claimed that his mother made him promise to get married before he turned twenty-five, and this seemed like the easiest way possible for all the parties involved. Apparently Ashley hadn't been very good on the dating front either — despite the fact that he fit nearly every gay man's ideal of perfection — and that the company that referred him to Stuart was less of a prostitution ring with a no-sex-before-marriage-conscience and more of an E-Harmony that was _seriously_ committed to making things work.

Stuart's not sure how much of that is true, but it made for a cute enough story to tell his boss as he put Ashley as his emergency contact and add him to his health insurance, so he decided not to push it.

Besides if it _was_ a two-way search then that means that maybe, just maybe, Stuart fits Ashley's idea of an ideal spouse nearly as perfectly as Ashley does his.

*

Somehow Rachid winds up coming over for dinner around the three month mark. Stuart had been complaining that Rachid had been hovering his cubicle day after day, demanding to meet the man that he'd spent some his hard earned cash over. Ashley had told him to just invite the git over so they could get it over with.

So when it got to the point where Stuart had wanted to stab Rachid in the fucking neck with a pencil and the only thing stopping him was that he'd been to HR too many times as it was, he finally caved. It'd be hard enough to find another job in this economy, and he had Ashley to think about now anyway, so he'd told Rachid that he could come over that night if it meant he would leave him the fuck alone and actually do some damn work. Ashley takes it all in stride and claims that'd it be nice to mee the man that brought them together. He says it ironically, but Stuart's getting pretty good at reading Ashley too, so he see's the bit of truth in the statement anyway.

"Look at the two of yous, looking' like a proper couple and everythin'." Rachid comments when they greet him at the door.

As the night wares on Ashley's replies to Rachid's invasive questions become progressively more short. At the end of the evening Ashley all but shoves him out of the door before he slams it in his face.

Stuart finds himself irrationally pleased.

*

Stuart is irrationally enraged when he comes home to Rachid stretched out in his living room. He manages to stop himself from jumping to all sorts of conclusions and strangling the man to death, but it's a near thing. "I thought something was up when you didn't hassle me at lunch today. They said you'd called in sick."

"Aww, you noticed! But, yeah, I am, mate. And sadly enough, I don't have me a nice stay-at-home to take care of me, so I came by to get some TLC. I mean, I was the one who payed for your membership to that damn service, might as well get some use out of it, right?"

"You _deliberately_ waited until I had left to come over, didn't you!"

Ashley takes that moment walk out of the kitchen, carrying a bowl of soup. He smiles tiredly at Stuart before moving the living room table closer to Rachid and placing the bowl in front of him. Once Rachid starts eating, Ashley makes his way over to Stuart, burying his in his neck. Stuart glares at Rachid for somehow talking Ashley into making him food and taking care of him for the day. For breathing, really.

"What's this, then? You having been a vet makes it impossible for you to turn away the strays? I suppose feeding him had sealed our fate. We'll never be rid of him now." He noses at Ashley's hairline until he finally lifts his head up, allowing Stuart kiss him properly. It's been three months since they've started kissing and a day hasn't gone by since where Ashley hasn't welcomed him home from work with one.

"Oi, get a room! Some of us are having a hard enough time keeping food down as it is!"

Ashley barely pulls his lips away to say, "Well this is my living room, so if you have any complaints I suggest you get the hell out," before they reconnect with Stuart's. It's hardly even a kiss, just a pressing of lips, really, but it manages to relax Stuart for the first time since he spotted Rachid in his house.

*

At the seven month mark the decide they really do need to start having sex.

Stuart's actually quite proud of himself that he lasted this long. Or maybe he should be ashamed that it took this long to get Ashley into his bed — well, he's _been in his bed_ since that third night, but now it's in the metaphorical as well as literal sense of the phrase.  
The sad truth was, despite him being terribly bitter and more ironic than a hipster on his best day, Stuart was a romantics at heart. He has no problem admitting it to himself since it's not something he can help. He's tried to get over it or cure it or just bloody _ignore_ it to no avail, so acceptance was all that was left. The problem was that Ashley, the cold blooded bastard, turned out to be a romantic too.

So here they were, two romantics thrown into a marriage via fate taking the role as an annoying coworker cum quasi-friend and an extreme dating agency and despite all that somehow they'd managed to actually _like_ one another. Which meant that for the first time sex would actually mean something to either of them, and neither of them wanted to fuck it up.

But you could only passive-aggressively masturbate at an alarming volume for so long, and luckily enough they did like each other, so sex was the next logical step.

It helped that Ashley had finally just came out and said _Fuck me, you self-sacrificing bastard_. That had been more than enough of a sign in Stuart's book.

At least that's what he tells himself as he stares up into Ashley's eyes, holding himself as still as possible as Ashley lines himself up and sinks down onto his cock. When he feels Ashley's ass settle against his fingers he pulls his hand out of the way so Ashley can bring himself flush against Stuart's thighs. He's pushing in, steadily till Ashley's whole body shivers. It's the first time either of them has ever had sex without a condom, which is just another tick in favor of marital sex in Stuart's book.

Ashley's panting and Stuart forgets English for a moment, Ashley's ass is so tight. Stuart grins, headboard cutting into his back, and says, "Is it everything you dreamed of, Ash?"

Ashley's moans out a laugh. "No, I want a divorce, this is terrible."

"I'll show you a divorce!"

"That doesn't even make sen—" Ashley's sentence breaks off into a moan as Stuart begins thrust into him wildly, hands gripping Ashley's hips tight. Ashley wraps his arms around Stuart's shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair, holding on tight, precome dripping onto Stuart's belly. Stuart had thought that he could be patient, wait Ashley out until he was begging for it, but he hadn't factored in how fucking badly he's wanted Ashley, and just how long it's been since he's had this — months before Ashley even came into his life. It feels amazing, mind-numblingly good, so good he almost can't believe it. Ashley's body grips his cock like a vice that never wants him to leave, breathy, strangled noises bursting forth from his mouth, punctuating each of Stuart's thrusts.

He pulls Ashley's face closer to his and says, "I'm going to fuck you so hard that you forget your own name." Ashley just presses his face into his neck and moans _Stuart_ out brokenly, and Stuart is fucking gone.

He leans forward until Ashley's back is flush with the bed, pulling Ashley's legs over his shoulders just so he manages to sink in that much deeper, gripping Ashley's hips hard and rolling them so that Stuart's leaning over him, bending Ashley in two, foreheads pressed together. Not once does Ashley close his eyes or break eye-contact, so Stuart returns the favor; doesn't even want to blink if it means missing a second of this.

After a while he reaches between their bodies and starts jacking Ashley, rhythm erratic and it's apparently all Ashley needed because comes all over Stuart's hand and chest with a Gaelic curse.

Stuart manages to give one last thrust, bottoming out before he'd coming, pushing in as hard as he can, mashing his mouth into Ashley's to muffle his own cry.

Ashley collapses right on top him afterwards, and because of course it's just Stuart's fucking luck to be married to a cuddler, he just rolls off and wraps his arms around Stuart's middle and hold him tight. It's moved out of cuddle territory and into extreme hugging and Stuart doesn't mind nearly as much as he makes Ashley think he does.

Ashley's never put up with his bullshit before, though, not even on that first day. He just bites the shit out of Stuart's pec and keeps holding on.

*

Like everything else in their relationship, they take to sex like they took to kissing like they took to sharing a bed. Which is to say there's no way in hell they'll go back to the time before they had sex.

Ashley points all of this out to him as their one year anniversary starts getting closer and closer. He says that despite going about it all backwards they truly are a boring, married couple now and he really needs to stop referring to their marriage as a sham lest Ashley be forced to punch him in his fucking face.

Stuart is loathe to agree with him, but annoying enough, Ashley is hardly ever wrong, especially in matters such as these.

*

"Stuart Greenwick-Bayldon, will you do me, Ashley Greenwick-Bayldon, the honor of re-taking your hand in holy matri-"

"You can do me the honor of sleeping on the couch."


End file.
